Mercy
by godfatherambs
Summary: Set in the late 1800's, a desperate Elena Gilbert takes a position at the Salvatore estate, unaware of the dark secrets, romantic history, and entanglements that have occurred there.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 **

**Mystic Falls, 1875**

"You treat me as though I am infantile," Damon Salvatore groaned, his slender fingers tightening around his untouched tumbler of whiskey. "I need no one tending to me."

"The last time I left you unattended for weeks at a time, I returned home to no staff and a partially charred kitchen," his brother, Stefan replied, rounding the chaise where Damon was lounging. "And there were rumblings of an attack in town."

Shifting the drink to his right hand, he held his left up and wiggled his bare fingers. "It was not me."

"Do you think I'm an idiot? You sleep during the day and roam the night, Damon. We all do."

"Yes, but the attack you referred to happened in the daylight," he reminded him, his lips puckering as he brought the tumbler to them. Swallowing, he swirled the golden liquid around in the glass before taking another drink. "I don't have the desire to take something that should be given."

Stefan's brow creased as he dragged his gaze along the floor, unable to look his brother in the face when he sounded this way. "I'm afraid you haven't much of a desire to do anything these days."

That hadn't always been the case with Damon.

For years, he had disappeared from the town of Mystic Falls without any notice or a letter left to say where he was going. And when he returned, he'd offer no information as to where he had been or what he'd been doing. The whereabouts didn't matter; Stefan knew his brother had roamed the country, perhaps even the world, and returned home only because he had no where else to go. Every heart ran empty at some point.

"Am I bothering you by being here?" Damon asked, narrowing his eyes at his whiskey as his hand tensed around it yet again. "I've let you make every decision about _my_ life. I've submitted to you, little brother. Believe me when I say that is something I only do with a woman in the privacy of my bedroom." The corner of his mouth hitched. "And sometimes out of it."

Stefan hadn't wanted to make decisions for his brother. There had been no other choice. Something inside Damon had snapped and almost left him unwilling to live. What kept him alive was having no idea what waited in complete death. His affections for whiskey and women were not worth giving up yet. Eventually their novelty would wear and Stefan feared Damon would take his own life.

"Did you not find my joke amusing?" Damon murmured, his lips curving as he dropped his head back on the chaise and looked up at him. "Because if I must say so myself, I am quite funny."

"You're drunk," Stefan sighed. The alcohol was loosening his brother's lips and causing him to talk more than normal.

Not that he minded. After going years without hearing Damon's voice, it was nice to have him here and alive. He just wished things could be the way they used to be– or at least close.

The Damon that left Mystic Falls had been bitter, resentful, and downright disgusted by life's events. Instead of thinking through his emotions, he barreled past his feelings and became a danger to the entire town. Leaving had been best for the town's wellbeing, but Stefan wondered how many Damon had left slaughtered in his path.

Something had changed him though. Something had caused his brother to return to Mystic Falls calmer, drunker, and less alive than he had been when he'd left. Stefan had his assumptions, but knew better than to voice them. The last thing he wanted to do was rile up what fury was still buried inside Damon.

Taking his brother's ring and his ability to walk in the daylight had been a preventative measure, one meant to protect the innocence of the town, and so far it seemed unnecessary. Damon didn't desire anything bad enough to chase it, but that would change someday and Mystic Falls would be in trouble when it did.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Damon asked snidely, easing himself off the chaise to refill his tumbler. His discarded waistcoat slid from his lap, pooling against the hardwood floors. Instead of picking it up, he kicked it aside and continued toward the side table that was littered with empty bottles of whiskey.

"I leave in the morning," Stefan sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, "unless you run off the next woman I wish to hire. You need someone to cook for you, to clean…"

"One fire and I'm banned from the kitchen… You know, women should only be paid to do one thing," he muttered, chuckling to himself as he filled his glass and then a second one. "Perhaps that is what I need."

"I have no doubt you get plenty of that when you leave roam the town at night," he replied, arching an eyebrow when his brother held the second glass out to him. "That is what you're doing at night, isn't it?"

Damon's lip twitched. "Sometimes."

"She isn't here, Damon. She's gone."

The mere mention of that _she_ caused the air in the room to shift. The lighthearted banter that had existed so far this morning would now change. The grin that formed on Damon's lips would be replaced by a constant scowl. And the ease that worked its way between the brothers would disappear.

"Tramping her way across the country, I'm sure," was all Damon said, his shoulders tensing as he turned away. He maneuvered his way through the library, avoiding the patches of sunlight not contained by the curtains. "I'll be in my room. Hire whomever you please. She'll still be gone before you return."

Letting out a deep breath, Stefan crossed the room to the window, his eyes fluttering closed when he felt the heat of the sun on his face. He didn't like leaving Damon, but he had no choice. Their survival depended on this.

"Katherine," he whispered, his chest aching as he said her name aloud like he always did when he was alone. "Why did you do this to us?"

* * *

The Salvatore estate was the largest in Mystic Falls; the lavish home hidden behind the thick tress and rows of gardens that were locked behind its iron gates. It was an enigma to those in town who didn't have the pleasure of knowing the Salvatores – and few did. Everyone was aware that most of the businesses in town had been owned or funded by the family for several generations, but few had the pleasure of meeting any member of the family face to face.

Elena Gilbert would soon belong to that exclusive circle of people.

She pressed her face against the window of her carriage as it rolled through the gate, her breath hitching at the rows of tall trees and perfectly pruned rose bushes. The path to the house was paved, not dirt like the roads in town, the trees taller and the grass greener. It was magical; the kind of land that surrounded castles in the fairy tales her mother had told her as a child.

The carriage began to turn as the trees cleared, revealing a path that circled around to the front of the biggest house Elena had ever seen. It was painted a delicate shade of white that seemed even brighter beneath the afternoon sun. The windows were wide and long, covered by thick drapes as if to keep anyone from seeing inside. And the roof was held up by tall, decorated columns, making it seem even larger than it already was.

"Miss Gilbert?" Her eyes snapped to the driver's. "Breathtaking, isn't it?"

"It's…amazing," she breathed, slipping her gloved hand into his as she stepped down out of the carriage. She couldn't resist allowing herself a brief fantasy where she was coming here for something other than work, something like love. "You must enjoy coming here every day."

"Ask me that in a few weeks," the driver replied, closing the carriage door behind her. "This is my first week, and I'll be accompanying the younger Salvatore brother out of town."

"Is the brother kind?" she asked, smoothing one hand over the front of her dress as the other checked her bun. A few pieces strayed and she tucked them behind her ear as her stomach turned. To a family like the Salvatores, appearance was everything.

While the family was generous to local businesses and the town as a whole, the rumblings about their demeanor were less than favorable. No one worked for them for very long, and no one talked about their time spent here once they were fired.

"The pay is kind," he answered, adding to the nerves that were building inside her.

The pay was why Elena had come here. Her family was by no means poor, but her father had taken ill early last year and had been unable to work. The pressure to support the family had fallen on the shoulders of her younger brother, Jeremy, who didn't seem to understand the importance of taking care of them. Their aunt, Jenna, had married last summer, but her husband couldn't afford to keep the family afloat forever.

Thinking of her mother's strength, Elena decided she would take on the burden of supporting her family. Jenna advised against it and suggested she marry instead, but she refused to be on display for a wealthy man she could hardly stand. It was easy for her aunt who had fallen in love with someone who loved her in return. Few men could handle Elena's independence or quick tongue, and she wouldn't settle for someone who saw her as less than his equal.

"Thank you," Elena managed, curling her fingers into the skirt of her dress and following the path to the front door.

She lifted a hand to the doorknocker, but hesitation overcame her. What if the Salvatores were as awful as people hinted? Was any amount of money worth whatever abuse they may direct her way?

Tears filled her eyes as she thought of her father, coughing and moaning for hours on end at night. There was enough medication to last him a few more days, but they didn't have the money to buy more _and_ keep everyone fed. And Elena's father needed the medication.

With a deep breath, she swallowed her nerves, gripped the doorknocker, and prepared herself for whatever waited on the other side.

Katherine was still on Stefan's mind when he heard the gentle rapping of the brass knocker slip through the foyer and into the library. Habit caused him to wait for the butler to answer and announce the visitor, but then he remembered that Damon had managed to run him off a few days ago. His brother didn't take kindly to company.

He took a moment to draw the curtains open before starting out of the room, his chest tightening as he walked through the foyer. Many women had come to the house for this job and Damon had managed to scare each one into running; several so badly that Stefan had to follow after them to make sure they didn't tell a soul. He disliked having to do that, but it kept their lives and secrets safe.

Clearing his throat, he adjusted his jacket and reached for the doorknob, catching the woman on the other side of it by surprise. She stumbled back, but quickly regained her composure, her lips forming the gentlest smile. The shape of her face, the slope of her cheeks, the curve of her lips – it was all so familiar.

"I'm here to see Stefan Salvatore."

"Excuse me," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. His eyes rose over his fingers as his stomach turned, causing him to turn away and stalk down the hallway. Everything about her was _too_ familiar, especially the sound of her voice.

"Sir?" she called after him, her slippers echoing off the floor as she followed after him. "Are you alright? Should I call for someone?"

Stefan stepped into the library as he covered his mouth, her voice causing his skin to crawl. He leaned back against the wall as she followed him inside, reaching a tentative hand out to touch him. "Are you – are you alright?"

Turning his head slightly, he skimmed over her features from the corner of his eye. Everything was there – the blush of her cheeks, the chocolate shade of her eyes, the sweetness of her voice - but everything was _different_ as well. Softer. Sweeter. Innocent. Attributes that Katherine could never have. Still, it didn't matter. Just looking at her was too much.

"I'm – I'm afraid the – the position has been filled, miss," he stammered, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. "And I've fallen ill, so you should – you should leave."

"But I received a letter from Mr. Salvatore just yesterday that said he was looking forward to meeting with me. A carriage was sent for me this morning as well."

"Mr. Salvatore was wrong."

"Are you saying he's a liar?" she questioned, dropping her hand back to her side. "That's quite a terrible accusation to make."

"Seeing as _I_ am Mr. Salvatore," Stefan corrected her, his chest heaving as he sucked in several gulps of air. Standing this close to her was unnerving. "I would have an idea as to what kind of man he is. I made a mistake. The position was filled this morning. I'll gladly pay you for your-"

"Mr. Salvatore is a liar."

The sound of Damon's voice caused Stefan to groan and the woman whirled around, peering up the stairs where he hid between rows of bookshelves. "Who is there?" she asked, taking several steps toward the staircase. For a moment, Stefan thought she might run up them, which would have been a very bad idea.

"Your master," Damon replied, his voice slipping between the shadowy shelves. He didn't make his presence anymore known than that. "And you're hired."

"Damon!" Stefan cried, finding his voice as he pushed himself away from the wall. "You cannot be serious! If you think I will leave you alone with this-"

"You should get to know me before you insult me," Miss Gilbert interrupted, spinning back around to face Stefan. Her eyes were wide, heavy with confusion, the kind a person couldn't fake. "Are you toying with me, sir? Is this some game? I came here because you need a maid and a cook, positions I am perfectly capable of fulfilling, but if you wish to play with me-"

"I'll be the one playing with you," Damon chimed in, still refusing to show his face. He had seen her. It didn't matter that she hadn't seen him – _yet_. "You're hired. Pack your things. You move in tomorrow." She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of his voice. "And since you're hesitating, I'll be paying you double, Miss…"

"Gilbert," she filled in, looking back at Stefan as she tried to figure out what was going on here. "Elena Gilbert."

There was a soft groan from Damon before he repeated her name. If she heard, she didn't let either of them know it.

"You should think before accepting," Stefan replied, peering closer and looking for some sign that she was the one full of trickery here. "I beg you to think it over before saying yes."

Miss Gilbert frowned as she gripped her skirts and took a step away from him. "I am not sure what is going on here, but I assure you if the position hasn't been filled I plan on taking it."

This wasn't a job taken out of delight or to pass the time or because she planned on being a spinster. This was desperation. Stefan felt guilty, like he should pay her to leave instead of stay.

"But if either of you think I will take it without meeting Mr. Salvatore, you've gone mad," she snapped, sweeping her skirts up as she started for the doorway. "I'll be here tomorrow morning with my things, but I will not move in until I meet him."

Her slippers clicked softly against the floor as she let herself out, slamming the door hard behind her. Damon cackled from among the bookshelves. "I like her," he called down, poking his head out from behind one of them. "I really like her."

"She's not Katherine."

"I know," Damon grinned, drumming his fingers along the bookcase. "Aren't you curious?"

It _was_ an uncanny resemblance. She could have been a twin, perhaps separated at birth. There must be some logical explanation.

"You can't hurt her," Stefan warned, overwhelmed by a sudden need to protect her. Just being near her for those few moments had made him unravel. What would it do to Damon? He had yet to recover from Katherine.

"I won't, but I'm curious," Damon replied, eying the sunlight as he stepped out of the shadows, careful not to get too close. "She stays here or I hunt her." He shrugged as he gripped the railing that wound the upper level of the library. "And if I hunt her…" His eyes brightened. "Well, there's no telling how it'll end. Your choice, little brother."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Thanks for giving this story a chance and for the feedback. Really excited that you guys are loving this. My week is kind of crazy, so I'm not sure when my next update will be. This chapter is Stefan and Elena heavy, but don't worry. Damon and Elena will be all alone in that house soon enough. **

**Chapter 2 **

"It was so strange, Jenna," Elena sighed, wringing out a washcloth before swiping it across her father's forehead. He stirred at her touch, but his eyelids didn't open. "I've never been so confused."

"Perhaps you should rethink taking the position," her aunt suggested, frowning as she stirred a spoon around in her cup of tea. "Aside from today's incident, Elena, have you given much thought to how this will look to everyone in town?"

"I won't be the first young woman to have worked for the Salvatores," she reminded her. She dipped the cloth into the bowl of clean water and swirled it around with her fingertips. "The pay is more than enough to pay for father's medication as well as more doctor's visits. It could be enough to make him well again."

"Elena," she murmured, shaking her head as she set the spoon down on her saucer, her frown deepening as she took a sip of tea.

No words followed. Jenna didn't need to say anything for her niece to know what she was thinking. It had been nearly a year since Grayson Gilbert had taken ill, and if he was going to get better, he would have by now. The family wasn't holding vigil at his bedside and tending to his every need in hopes of him getting better. They were waiting for him to die.

"Marrying wouldn't fix this," Elena said, twisting the cloth around in her hands as she stared at her father. He seemed so relaxed, normal even, while he was sleeping. The medication relaxed him enough that the pain inside his chest didn't keep him awake, and when he did cough in his sleep, the groans were few and far between.

Finding a suitable match would only bring this burden into a new relationship, one that would hardly have time to flourish the way it should. There wasn't enough time to meet someone, fall in love, and hope they could keep Grayson alive for a while longer. And she refused to bring someone else into her life who believed that the best possible outcome for her father would be death.

"I'll be able to bring a doctor to see him within my first week of working for the Salvatores," Elena added. She swiped the cloth across the beads of sweat that pooled on her father's forehead. "This isn't your cross to bear, and it shouldn't be Alaric's either."

"He wishes he could help more," Jenna whispered, knowing that wishing did little to help considering their circumstances.

Alaric Saltzman was a kind man, but he wasn't wealthy. He taught at the school in town and was a private tutor for some of the wealthier families. It was honest work that he was passionate about, but he couldn't afford to take care of Jenna's extended family. Just the simple fact that he tried said enough about his character.

"I have a good feeling about this," Elena said, forcing a smile as she turned around on her stool to look at her aunt. "Everything is going to get better."

"Do you hear yourself?" Jenna asked, reaching for her teacup. "Moments ago you were retelling what happened this afternoon and…" She arched an eyebrow at her niece. "I don't like the idea of you being alone with two strangers, two men who seem keen on playing games with you."

That aspect of the Salvatores was less than pleasing, but Elena liked to think it was some kind of test. They were rumored to be peculiar and maybe they wanted to see if she could live with their strange ways. And she could, so long as she met the man of the house and he respected her enough.

"I took the position," Elena shrugged, straightening up when she heard the front door slam. The floorboards creaked as someone, undoubtedly Jeremy, made their way down the hallway, and judging from the stumble of his steps, he had been enjoying himself tonight. "All I ask is that you stop by once a day to check on my father." Her eyes darkened when her brother's lean form filled the doorway. "Because it's quite apparent that not everyone in this house is mature enough to accept responsibility."

"Ah, I see you are having the same conversation you were having when I left this morning," Jeremy slurred, rolling his eyes as his body sagged against the doorframe. "You act as if I'm not trying, Elena."

It didn't seem fair that the stress of the family had to fall onto such a young man's shoulders, but life was not fair. Jeremy had been raised by a gracious father, who instilled in his children every day the importance of family and of a strong work ethic. Those attributes had been tossed aside in favor of chasing women and spending what little money he believed they could spare at the pubs in town.

"How much did you spend tonight, Jeremy?" Elena asked, draping the damp cloth over the side of the bowl as she got up from the stool. "Have you even come inside this room today? Helping is the same as-" Her words caught in her throat when she heard movement in the hallway and a much taller figure appeared behind her brother.

First, she noticed the neat appearance of his coat, a stark contrast next to Jeremy's, and her stomach ached when she made out his harsh jaw line as he peered over her brother's shoulder. It took a moment beneath the flicker of the candles that were glowing through the room to recognize the man. "Mr. – Mr. Salvatore," she gasped, her eyes flashing back to Jeremy's as she rushed toward the doorway.

"Oh, I forgot," Jeremy muttered, stepping aside as he began to explain that he'd run into Mr. Salvatore out front. She didn't care to hear it when he had been left waiting in the hallway while they argued about family business.

"I'm quite sorry," Elena whispered, feeling her cheeks flame as she motioned him down the hallway and into the sitting room that was near the front door. "My brother is…" She shook her head as her eyes brimmed with tears. What was she supposed to say?

"Miss Gilbert, every family has issues," he replied, the corner of his mouth inching upward as he lifted a hand to his chest. "I promise your secrets are safe with me." She nodded, unsure of what else to say. "And I hope you'll forgive me for what happened this afternoon when you came to meet with me."

"I'm – I'm still confused about this afternoon," she stammered, letting out a deep breath as she stepped further into the room and motioned him toward one of the armchairs. "What did happen?"

"Ah, you remind me of someone," Mr. Salvatore murmured, his brow creasing as he sank down into the chair. His gaze drifted toward the couch adjacent to his chair as if silently asking her to sit.

"Judging from your reaction, I doubt that's a compliment," Elena replied, smoothing the skirt of her dress out as she sank down on the couch.

"I'm afraid it's not," he admitted, letting out a nervous laugh. "I hope that doesn't change your mind about coming to work at the Salvatore estate."

"Well, that depends," she murmured, glancing over the back of his chair when Jenna appeared with a tray of tea and biscuits. She hoped they weren't stale. "Who was – who was the other voice?"

"My brother, Damon," Mr. Salvatore replied, giving Jenna a polite smile when she slid the tray down on the table in front of him. "He's – he's the reason I have such trouble keeping a staff on the estate. He's had a difficult life and it's made him a little peculiar."

"From what I've seen, it must run in the family blood," Elena said, pressing her lips together when Jenna shot her a look. While her aunt enjoyed her loose tongue, she constantly scolded her for saying whatever she wanted to whoever was present. "I didn't mean to offend-"

"You didn't," he grinned, his laughter more relaxed this time. He leaned forward and helped himself to a cup of tea before either Jenna or Elena could pour it for him. "Damon is just… He likes to be alone. He doesn't go outside much." He brought the teacup to his mouth and sniffed. "He isn't fond of the daytime, I'm afraid."

"So will I be looking after him as well?"

Before Mr. Salvatore could answer, the cup slipped from his hands as he let out a gruff cough and doubled over in his chair. "Jenna!" she cried, rushing from the couch to pull him upright. "Get – get him some water, please!"

He waved a hand in the air as he continued to cough, his voice breaking between words. "What – what was in that?"

"It's tea," Elena shrugged, kneeling down in front of him to grab the cup, relieved when he seemed to relax into the chair. "Chamomile…and – and vervain." He burst into another coughing fit at her answer. "Mr. Salvatore, are you-"

"I'm fine," he groaned, clearing his throat as he let out a deep breath. "I'm – I'm allergic to vervain. I'm afraid my brother is as well."

"I'm so sorry," she replied, looking up as Jenna came back into the room with a cup of water. "My father has always put it in our tea." She took the cup from her aunt and held it out to him, noticing how his hands shook when as he took it. "Mr. Salvatore, I…-"

"Please, call me Stefan," he interrupted, taking a long sip and grimacing as he swallowed. "I've never been one for formalities."

"If you promise to call me Elena," she said, smiling up at him, "then we'll have ourselves a deal."

"Elena," he repeated, her name sounding soft and smooth on his tongue.

Jenna cleared her throat, causing her niece's eyes to snap to hers. Her brows arched as she smiled, but said nothing as she started out of the room.

It was only a few moments later that Elena realized she was still sitting on her knees in front of him. "I – I…" Her cheeks flamed once more as she stumbled to her feet, the crimson shade of them deepening even further when he reached a hand out to steady her. "Thank you."

"Sorry I gave you a fright," he apologized, not letting go of her wrist until she backed toward the couch and gave him no other choice.

She forced a smile as she settled into her seat, fully aware of how closely he watched her. He was looking at her, but Elena couldn't tell if he saw her or someone else. "Before… we were discussing the position at your estate."

"Yes, we were…" He smiled again, the features of his face softening as his eyes lifted to hers. This time it was clear he was looking at _her_ and thinking of no one else. "I leave Mystic Falls for business every few weeks. I don't like leaving Damon alone given his condition."

"Being peculiar is hardly a condition," Elena commented, "and if he's ill, shouldn't you hire a nurse?"

"I wish it were as simple as an illness. His mood changes by the hour. He doesn't like being around people or leaving the house unless it's nighttime. He can be quite difficult, which is why I asked you to really think about taking this position."

"That young man who escorted you inside is my brother. His mood changes by the hour. He doesn't like being around people or having any responsibility. And he prefers the nighttime because he believes no one can see him chasing women or sneaking swigs of whiskey. I know all about dealing with difficult men."

Stefan's lips formed a tender smiled as he tipped his head to the side. "I don't know if I've ever met anyone like you, Miss – Elena."

"What about this woman I remind you of?" she asked, feeling flushed beneath the obvious heat of his gaze. He was giving her a compliment of the highest form.

"Trust me when I say, she is _nothing_ like you."

This time Elena smiled as she dragged her eyes away from him. Men had flirted with her before, but it was easy to confuse that with kindness. She wasn't sure which Stefan Salvatore was showing her, and it wasn't as if it mattered. Working for the Salvatores was solely about taking care of her family.

"I'll pack my things and be ready in the morning."

"Good, and should there be any issues with my brother or you feel as if you must leave…" Stefan sat up on the edge of his chair, his smile fading away as his tone grew somber. "Then leave. Don't stay if you're uncomfortable. Don't stay if he upsets you. And quite frankly, if I were you, I wouldn't try getting too close to him either. You can leave his meals in the library, his clothes in a basket in one of the halls…" His voice lowered as he turned slightly in his chair and looked at the doorway. "I can see why this job is important to you, and I'll do everything I can to help your father."

"I haven't even started working for you," Elena replied, overwhelmed by his generosity. "What if I'm a terrible cook? Or even worse at washing clothes?"

"As long as you leave the vervain out of my brother's tea – please, drink it as you prefer it – you'll be fine. My brother doesn't eat much. He prefers whiskey. And he tends to stay in the same clothes for days." The more Stefan described him, the more Damon Salvatore sounded like Jeremy. "There's one last thing, Elena."

Her eyes followed Stefan as he stood and unbuttoned the front of his coat and reached into an inside pocket. She saw the thin gold chain that wrapped the tips of his fingers and the round pendant with a tiny red stone that hung from it.

"It's customary for my family to bestow a gift to new employees," he explained, holding the necklace out to her. "My mother and father started the tradition years ago." His voice changed as if it was close to trembling. It reminded her of the way Jeremy sounded whenever he told a lie. "Some people used to try to sneak onto the property and the staff was so large that this was the only way of identifying them."

"A necklace?" Elena asked, closing her slender fingers around the pendant when he let it fall into her hand.

It was smooth and delicate in her palm, even more beautiful up close than it had been when he first pulled it from his pocket. She didn't bother to point out that she was one of the only people on staff at the estate, or that it was very improper for a man to give a young woman such a gift. It was so beautiful and such a sweet gesture.

"Thank you," she murmured, grinning as she rolled the pendant around in her hand. She couldn't remember the last time that someone had given her something like this.

"Just promise to wear it – always," Stefan replied, buttoning his coat as he smiled back at her.

"Always," Elena promised, surprised when his gaze lingered on her once more, that far away look drifting into his eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded as he started to back away, bumping into the chair in the process. Recovering quickly, he stood upright and let out a nervous laugh. "The carriage will be here shortly after dawn."

It was the first time she had felt this hopeful in a long time; that life might actually work in her and her father's favor. "Have a good evening, Stefan," she said. Looking up from the necklace when he didn't answer, she was surprised to find that he was already gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I know it's been months since I updated this story. I never take this long to update, but I've had a pretty tough semester at school this spring, so Eng. Lit. classes have stolen all my writing time. The good news is there is just a few weeks left and I'll have plenty of time to write should there still be someone out there reading this. :P Enjoy! **

**Chapter 3 **

The thin gold chain was a welcoming contrast against the delicate skin of Elena's neck. It beckoned to Stefan, urging him to slide the tip of his finger beneath it and trace the path to where the pendant dangled. Had he less self-control or been a lesser man that would have been exactly what he would have done. Instead, he shifted on the bench seat of the carriage and directed his gaze out the small window.

"I thank you, again," Elena murmured, lacing her fingers together and resting her hands in her lap where she sat across from him. "I hadn't expected such a kind escort back to the estate this morning."

"I'd rather know you were settled before I left town," Stefan replied, swinging his eyes back toward her and taking a moment to revel in her profile.

Everything – the very slope of her nose and curve of her mouth – was identical to Katherine. Yet Elena couldn't be further from the woman who had ruined his and Damon's lives. She was soft-spoken and tender, far too kind for her own good, and completely unaware of the danger she had placed herself in. Unfortunately, Damon had left him no choice.

"As I warned you," Stefan added, swallowing hard when her gaze met his and the corners of her mouth curved upward in a sweet smile, "Damon can be difficult. I thought I would make one last attempt at having you rethink your decision."

He spent most of the night pacing the floors at the Salvatore estate and praying to a God he knew no longer heard him, hopeful that Elena might come to her senses by morning. It didn't help matters that Damon moseyed through the house, vocalizing his speculations for Elena's appearance and alluding to the things he wished to do to her. All it would take was one small mistake, an action or phrase too similar to Katherine's for Damon to attack Elena.

It wasn't as if Stefan didn't understand the temptation. While Katherine had turned his entire being inside out, he still yearned for her and craved the touch of her body against his. Elena would have undoubtedly been a welcomed substitute – perhaps an even better one.

Thank God she drank vervain and was wearing the necklace he'd given her.

"I assure you that I can tend to your brother," Elena laughed, seemingly caught up in the comparison of Damon to Jeremy. If only she knew how different their brothers were. She would welcome Jeremy's drinking and lack of help with her father over the darkness that dwelled inside Damon. "My mother used to say difficult men just need a strong woman to guide them." A tremor ran through her voice, but she cleared her throat and straightened in her seat. "It's no wonder my father took her death so hard."

"Grief does strange things to people."

Her eyes softened as they met his. "You speak from experience," she murmured, looking as though she wanted to question him further.

With a sigh, Stefan shrugged off her sympathy, knowing it was unfair to compare her mother's death to what had happened with Katherine – even if losing her had been like a sudden death. Katherine changed in the blink of an eye, changing everything they knew about her and showing her how ugly a person could be. Losing her caused him to straighten up, but sent Damon into a tailspin he had yet to recover from. Could he really leave Elena alone with his brother for the few weeks he would be gone?

"We're here," Stefan said, never so relieved to see the gates surrounding the Salvatore estate, fencing his father once believed would keep people like him out. Now the iron gates acted as a weak defensive mechanism in his and Damon's minds; it kept them safe from everyone in Mystic Falls, but only because no one knew exactly who the Salvatore brothers were.

Elena twisted in her seat, looking out the window behind her as the gates swayed in the morning breeze. They moved gently at first before surging forward and meeting in the middle, the sound of the clanking iron like chains. She couldn't fight the harsh shiver that ran down her spine. "Forgive me," she whispered, forcing her body to return to its proper, upright ladylike stance. "I have – I have never lived anywhere else except my home. And despite the short distance, Mystic Falls feels as if it's in another country."

"The estate has that effect on me as well," he replied, reaching for the carriage door the second it rolled to a stop. He didn't bother waiting for the driver to open it.

Slipping off the bench and stepping into the morning sun, he glanced at the front of the house for a sign of Damon. The curtain nearest the door rustled, causing a lump to form in his throat. Was he delivering Elena to a terrible fate? Or worse, Damon? Could his brother survive this?

"Don't think I've forgotten our agreement," Elena said, her lips curving into a tender smile as she wrapped her slender fingers around his arm and stepped down from the carriage.

Neither had he. "I will send a doctor to see your father very soon."

"Not that." Her brow arched as she eyed the front of the house. "I want to meet this mysterious brother of yours – the Mr. Salvatore I'll be working for while you're gone."

"I warned you that-"

"And I told you I wanted to meet him," Elena interrupted, releasing her grip on his arm as she tipped her head toward the house. "At least one of you is willing to honor my wish."

Gripping the sides of her dress, she lifted the material up from the ground and started toward the house where Damon stood leaning against one of the wide columns that wrapped the porch. The sun slid over his rumpled clothing and soaked into his skin, his mouth hanging in the most relaxed smile Stefan had seen on his brother in months. He knew that feeling, could still remember what it felt like to feel the sun after being forced to hide from it for so long.

"His ring," Stefan whispered, his stomach turning at the realization that Damon was standing in the sun without a single care in the world.

He had found his ring.

"Don't look so shocked, little brother," Damon called out, pushing away from the column and sauntering down the paved path to meet Elena. He glanced around her small form to wink at Stefan before extending his hand. Obliged to take it, Elena wrapped her hand around his as her knees bent in a polite dip.

The entire scene – Stefan standing near the carriage as the driver unloaded her trunks, Elena rushing forward to greet Damon – was too familiar. They had lived this before and with dire consequences, a fall-out they were still fighting to recover from. Bringing Elena here had been a mistake, but could Stefan have ever gone back to a time where he hadn't known her? Damon was right about one thing; Stefan was curious and had to know how she could look so much like Katherine yet be so different.

"Miss Gilbert," Damon murmured, bringing her hand to his mouth, well aware that she was the forbidden apple. And knowing his brother as well as Stefan did, he knew Damon would find a way to take a bite.

* * *

Judging from the overzealous way that Elena was being pulled through the Salvatore home, Stefan had underestimated his brother. Despite his constant warnings that Damon was the type to keep to himself, talk little, and had a disregard for nearly everyone, Elena was finding him to be quite the opposite. In fact, she rather enjoyed his company, a nice surprise considering she had left the house frustrated and humiliated just yesterday.

"The library is my favorite room in the house," Damon murmured, stopping at the end of a row of shelves. "I'm rather fond of getting lost in the dark corners."

"It must be difficult to read in the dark," Stefan commented, his hands braced on either side of him as he leaned back on the railing that wrapped the upper level of the library.

"You of all people should know there are _many_ things I can do in the dark," he replied, his lips curving into a wide smirk as he eased her along. The bookshelves seemed to go on forever, making quite an impressive collection. "What is your poison, Miss Gilbert?"

Damon's brow creased as he stared down at her, the soft blue shade of his eyes appearing to emit sparks when they met hers. It was the kind of gaze she knew she should look away from, but couldn't. He was so different from Stefan – darker, mysterious, every word that left his lips laced with a meaning she didn't understand. Or rather, she wouldn't allow herself to understand. He was the type of a man that ruined a proper woman, and she imagined that was what Stefan had warned her about.

While his clothes were rumpled, his jaw line was strong, his eyes piercing, and he never failed to look her in the face when he spoke to her. Something about that made her feel as if she was the only person in the room. Granted, Stefan was the only other person there, but it made her feel special. Few men cared enough to look so closely at a woman when they were speaking to her.

His voice was also kinder than it had been yesterday. Maybe that came with finally seeing his face and shaking his hand. His touch was gentle and his voice soft; everything about him exuding a kindness that she wouldn't have thought existed after the way Stefan spoke about him.

"Well?" he asked, drawing her from her thoughts as he tapped his fingers along the back of her hand as she held the crook of his arm. His fingertips danced along her skin, causing her to shiver as she looked up at him. For some reason he felt as if everything weighed on her answer.

Nervous, she said the first thing that came to mind, "Tragedy." The air seemed to thicken as Damon and Stefan looked at one another, their faces hardening, sharing words without saying them. She unwound her arm from Damon's and turned so she faced the brothers. "It's a trite answer, I'm afraid, but like most women I enjoy a good tragedy."

"Trust me," Damon said, swinging his gaze back to hers, "nothing about you, Miss Gilbert, is trite."

His eyes sparked again like they had nearly every time he looked at her. Was it meant to be a compliment – or something else? There was something amiss here, something bigger than her, something she wasn't sure she would ever understand.

Something _secretive_.

Elena didn't like being on the outside. When she was growing up, her father constantly scolded her for wanting to know everything and pestering those around her until she got the information she wanted. She doubted pestering was a good idea here. "Damon – Mr. Salvatore," she stammered, not liking the easy way his name rolled off her tongue, "I appreciate the tour."

Damon responded with another smirk that drifted toward his brother. He seemed to think this was a competition and that showing her around the house and acting as if she were some prized possession on his arm would get under Stefan's skin. A scowl darkened Stefan's mouth. His hands tightened around the railing and for some reason Elena felt responsible.

"And I appreciate your generosity," Elena added, earning a scowl from Damon, as she turned her attention to Stefan, "with your time this morning and with my father."

The air shifted again, turning staler. The brothers eyes flashed to one another, their bodies stiffening as another understanding passed between them. Yet another moment where she stood on the outside. Elena wasn't sure why she felt so uncomfortable and at fault. She had hardly known the Salvatores a day. How could she be the cause of their discomfort?

"If – if you don't mind," Elena stammered, her breath hitching when their eyes swung to her, "I think I'll return to my room and get settled." She held her breath, worried that one would want to escort her.

It had been awkward enough when Damon decided that he must show her the lavish bedroom she would be staying in before anything else. He left Stefan and the carriage driver to struggle with her trunks and led her up the stairs, where he pointed out that his bedroom was right down the hall from hers. It seemed odd that the help should be so close to him, but she didn't question it.

Just like she didn't question how he knew her bed was comfortable or her bed linens the finest.

A less wise woman would have missed his suggestive tone or been unaware of what he may have used her bed for, but Elena wasn't. She had dealt with men in town, most of whom wished to take her to bed and a handful that had intentions of marrying her first and _then_ taking her to bed, to know what Damon meant. A smart woman would have struck him, but she was too surprised by his frankness to do anything. The best outcome was to keep him at arms length. That way he couldn't mistake her kindness for reciprocation or infatuation, which is what most women she knew would have felt.

"And I'll call you later when dinner is ready," Elena added, curtsying at the brothers before turning and starting for the stairs.

"Remember," Damon called after her, "it's just me. My little brother here is leaving on business right _now_."

Her hand gripped the railing as she hurried down the steps, careful not to trip over her feet. She wanted nothing more than to put distance between her and both brothers until she sorted out what was going on between them.

Siblings were strange that way. They grew up with one another, a camaraderie that only they could understand, which made everyone else feel like an outsider. There was a time when she and Jeremy had been that close, when they could have a conversation with a single look. Was it something more with Stefan and Damon?

"I trust you to behave, Damon." She paused in the middle of the stairs, holding her breath as she waited for Damon's reply. Eavesdropping was quite unladylike, but there was no one to scold her for doing so.

"You should loosen up, Little Brother, and have some fun."

"Not at Elena's expense."

"Elena?" Damon huffed, his tone hardening. "Already close enough for first names?"

"Don't be jealous, Damon. You can't help that you're beneath a lady like Elena."

"Beneath?" His brother chuckled in that suggestive way that she wished she didn't notice. "You make it too easy for me."

"Do not hurt her." The threat that laced Stefan's words made Elena's chest tighten.

It was if they were in a competition.

Two brothers fighting over something – _for_ something that hadn't existed until Elena came back into this house. It was an unnerving realization, one that tempted her to forget her things and leave the house immediately, but she thought first of her father. If Stefan could bring a doctor to visit him and was willing to pay for whatever he needed, Elena had no choice but to stay.

Even if that meant that there was a competition brewing and _she_ may be the prize.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I've been terribly slow at updating this, so if you are still reading it, thank you so much for hanging in there. I'm already at work on the next chapter and hope to have it ready soon. Sorry I've been such a lazy updater. Keeping my fingers crossed that I can change that from here on out. A big thanks to everyone who's left feedback! And I hope you enjoy this update! :)  
**

**Chapter 4**

Loneliness took on an entirely different meaning at the Salvatore estate. A home this big should have been welcoming and warm, the kind of place filled with laughter and love. Instead it was suffocating Elena. The combination of the shadows from the heavy curtains that hung in the windows and the silence that filled the house exhausted her. While the work was simple, nothing more than she had done in her home with her father, she missed the companionship she had with her family. Not even the quiet that came after a fight with Jeremy was this bad.

The Salvatore Estate wasn't that far from town, but it felt like the other side of the world. And the letters from home only made things worse.

Sighing, Elena's gaze dipped to the slim stack of letters that had been delivered during her first week here. Two from Jenna about her father's condition, a poorly written note of apology from Jeremy, and one from her friend, Caroline, about her latest romantic entanglement.

_Tyler Lockwood asked me to the Founder's Day Festival. Granted, there's still time for him to change his mind, but he seems promising. Could you imagine if I was fortunate enough to marry a Lockwood?_

No matter how hard Elena tried not to envy the simplicity of Caroline's life, she failed miserably. She couldn't remember the last time that her head filled with worries over whether she would keep a boy's attention or wed someone wealthier than her. There was no time for romance in Elena's life, only laundry, cleaning, and cooking. Jealousy may have gotten the best of her had she not just sealed up her first week's pay to send to Aunt Jenna. She felt satisfied knowing she was doing something to help her father, something more important than dreaming about a wedding that would never come.

Still, she wished for a moment that she could be somewhere else with someone who at least talked to her.

Things would have been different had Stefan been here. He was kind and interesting whereas Damon was… Well, it was safe to say that Stefan had been serious when he described his brother. Elena thought she would be dealing with an older version of Jeremy. The desire to come and go, the drinking, and the lack of care for anyone other than himself was familiar to her because of her brother.

Unfortunately, Damon Salvatore was one of a kind.

Seven full days in the house and Elena had seen him twice, once during a raging fit where he tore every book from the shelves on the first floor of the library and the other when he passed out drunk in one of the hallways. Her attempt to drag Damon to his bedroom resulted in him waking up halfway there and yelling at her to go away.

"I can't stand to see your face," he'd hissed, his lips curling up in disgust as he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled away from her.

That had been three days ago.

Elena did as she had been told and left his meals on a table in the library and his laundry in the hallway. The plates were emptied when she came back to replace them with more food and the clean clothes replaced with dirty ones. Each night she heard him stomp through the house, muttering under his breath, and disappearing out the front door. When he returned it was sunrise and he made enough noise on the way to his room to wake her every morning. She couldn't help but wonder what happened to the grinning flirt that had welcomed her so happily on her first day here. He had made her uncomfortable, but at least it would provide her with some social interaction with someone who wasn't the postman.

"Do I remind him…?" she whispered, straightening up in her seat as she folded Caroline's note.

Damon and Stefan didn't seem close, which she understood because of her relationship with Jeremy. It was possible that if she reminded Stefan of someone, Damon knew them, too. Yet he had welcomed her, had fought for her to come into this house. Was it an attempt at coping? Or was he trying to torture himself?

Wondering wasn't going to get her anywhere. Whatever Damon was doing was his business, not Elena's. She would just have to survive the next couple of weeks until Stefan returned. A slow smile formed on her lips as she thought about Stefan, who had showed her more kindness than anyone else in a long time.

As she started out of her bedroom, her hand drifted to the delicate pendant that lay against her chest. "My brother gave that to you." The roughness of Damon's voice caused her knees to lock as she stepped into the hallway. It wasn't a question or a statement of a fact. It was an _accusation_.

Damon's boots echoed against the hardwood floors as he stepped forward, closing the space between them. She turned to face him, her breath hitching as her eyes rose to his. "He gave it to _you_," he repeated, softer this time, his fingertips grazing her chest as they touched the pendant's chain.

The scent of whiskey slipped from his mouth as he tilted his head and sighed, his fingers hooking beneath it. The back of his hand was oddly cool against her skin, his fingers flexing tighter as she felt the beat of her heart speed up. Elena closed her eyes, expecting to feel the pull of the chain as he jerked it from her neck. She felt nothing. And as she opened her eyes, he let go, and stepped back, his eyes fixed on the pendant.

"He – he said it was customary for the estate's staff to – to…" She began to stammer, stopping when she realized that it clearly was not a custom and that this necklace must have meant something else.

"It was my mother's," Damon murmured, his eyes sliding up to meet hers, the shade of blue even more piercing than she remembered it being on her first day here.

"Your mother's," Elena repeated, lifting her hand to stroke the pendant, its meaning instantly deepening.

His steps were precise as he backed away, one after the other until he reached the top of the stairs, and began to smile. "I wouldn't take it to heart. You're not the first to be gifted a Salvatore family heirloom," he said, gripping the banister as he turned to go down the stairs. "And judging from Stefan's history, you won't be the last."

* * *

Hours later, tears still stung the back of Elena's eyes. She had waited for Damon to reach the bottom of the stairs before slinking back into her bedroom and locking the door closed behind her. The ache in Damon's voice when he spoke about the necklace made her feel guilty and the hint that she was just another woman Stefan was keeping left her confused. She came here with the intention of working and nothing else. Had Stefan's kindness meant something more? Did he treat all female staff members of the estate the same?

It was possible. Rumors floated through town about the Salvatores. Women were hired to never speak of working here again. Did they all have some kind of inappropriate relationship with Stefan?

"Caroline was wrong," Elena murmured, crossing her arms over her chest as she approached one of the windows in the library. "Chivalry is dead."

The candle she held flickered light around the room as she drew the curtain back and stared down the shadowy driveway. It was as dark outside as it was inside, and for some reason, the idea of being out there felt safer. She turned to look over her shoulder, watching how the books on the shelves caught the glow of the candlelight. This was the most she had been in this room, having learned to stay away when Damon was occupying it. She had never seen so many books and was anxious to read as many she could while she was here.

"What are you doing in here?" Her body jerked when she heard his voice, the candle tipping from its holder and falling to the floor. "That's a very expensive rug, Elena."

"I – I didn't mean to…" She started to step on the flame, but remembered she was only wearing slippers.

"Wouldn't want you to get burned," Damon said, appearing at her side before she had a chance to look for something to put on the candle. The toe of his boot touched down on it, pressing the wax further into the carpet. "Normally I would take this out of your pay, but-"

"For someone who stomps around the house, you can move quietly when you want to," Elena interrupted, letting the curtain fall closed as she stepped away from him. The room dimmed, drowning them in shadows until he reached behind her and drew it open again.

"Depends on my mood," he shrugged, dragging his boot along the rug and leaving a trail of wax behind. "However, if you'd like I can announce myself every time I come into a room." Moonlight seemed drawn to his mouth as the corner of it hitched in a smirk and his brow arched curiously. "Were you waiting for me, Elena?"

Damon made it sound as if she wanted something from him. "No," she answered, unable to pull her eyes from his. It would be like admitting some kind of defeat. The longer he stared at her, the harder it was not to talk to him. "Yes… I don't know."

It had been hours and hours since he left the house, much longer than his usual trips. The necklace had set off one of his mood swings and that worried her. She had come into the library to watch for him, hoping he wouldn't come stumbling up the driveway. And the strange thing was she hadn't seen or heard him at all. The gravel would have crunched beneath his boots. The front door didn't creak or slam when he entered. It was as if he had appeared out of thin air, just like in the hallway that afternoon.

"I will tell you the same thing I tell Stefan," Damon said, starting across the room to an end table that held one of his many bottles of bourbon. She had no idea where the alcohol came from. It wasn't delivered with the groceries or the postman. She doubted Stefan bought it for him either. That must be another reason for him to sneak into town at night – well, that and prostitutes. "I am not an infant. I do not need someone looking after my every move."

"My brother tells me the same thing," Elena replied, surprised that she suddenly missed Jeremy. Dealing with him was far easier than dealing with Damon. At least when they came to blows, he locked himself into his room and didn't disappear. "But I think the truth is that he likes having people look after him."

"You think he likes being nagged?" he muttered, tilting the whiskey decanter over his glass. "Correction, you think he likes being nagged by _you_?"

The tone of his voice caused her to shiver. _"He gave it to you."_ There it was again. That same disgusted annoyance.

"I look after him because I care," she corrected, watching him closely as he started around the table and started back toward her. "You know that Stefan wants you looked after because he cares. That has to mean something to you." He started to interrupt her, but she didn't give him the chance. "No amount of alcohol and women can replace someone truly caring."

"Are you saying you care about me?" Damon grunted, clearly thinking otherwise.

For once, she wasn't going to placate him. She had been doing it for a week now. "No, I don't care about you." Those five words caused him to stop halfway across the room. "But Stefan does. And I know from experience with my own selfish, alcoholic brother that there is nothing more frustrating than trying to help someone who doesn't want to help themselves."

His eyes rolled as he took a long sip from his glass. "I don't need help," he spit, "especially from you."

"Good, because I have no intention of helping you," Elena replied, this conversation all too similar to ones she had with Jeremy. She couldn't bring herself to be this honest with her brother, but Damon was different. He didn't mean anything to her, and despite whatever Stefan's intentions were with her, she wished he was treated better. "In fact, I think Stefan has given you too much help."

"Is that so?" he asked flatly, letting the hand that held his whiskey fall limply to his side.

"You are a grown man, Damon. You're living off your little brother's dime, spending his money on cheap whiskey and prostitutes because that's better than feeling?" She shook her head as she shuffled across the floor, choosing to stand close to him. "You act as if you're proud that you have to stay drunk and go to bed with women that don't mean anything. It's nothing to be proud of. It's _pathetic_."

Her words caught in her throat when she realized how harsh she sounded, even more so when Damon appeared to flinch. Had she imagined it?

"And the only person you're hurting here is yourself," she continued as she suck in a deep breath, "because you are living a lie. This nonchalant, uncaring attitude is just a cover up to how afraid you really are. If you sobered up long enough, you might actually feel something real, and you're too much of a coward to do that, aren't you?" She waited for him to reply. "Aren't you, Damon?"

"I think," he said, his eyes narrowing spitefully, "you should shut your mouth and go lock yourself in your bedroom before I show you how much of a coward I'm not."

It was a threat, a meaningful one at that, yet Elena doubted he would hurt her. Hearing the truth was what he needed. Hearing the truth had hurt him. And it was better to come from her than Stefan, who was liable to snap and cut Damon off completely someday. It was what needed to happen, but she couldn't judge Stefan when enabled Jeremy the same way.

"I feel sorry for you," Elena said, lifting her hand to the pendant that hung around neck. She curled her fingers beneath the chain and jerked, not caring that the clasp would be broken. If it meant that much to Damon, he could repair it. The pendant swung in the air between them as she held the chain out. "Take it."

A lump formed in his throat as his eyes followed the pendant from side to side. "My brother gave it to you."

"But it means something to you," she replied, reaching for his hand that held his drink. The glass slid from his hand at her touch, his fingers instinctively wrapping around hers. His touch was warmer than it had been that afternoon, welcoming even, and he seemed as if he wanted to hold on to her for as long as possible. "Your mother would want you to have it, Damon."

The mention of his mother caused him to grimace and pull away, but he didn't let go of the chain. Elena stepped around him, letting the moonlight guide her to the doorway.

"Elena," he called out, his boots shuffling against the carpet as he turned toward her. Across the room she could see his blue eyes drowning in a mixture of confusion and frustration. She expected him to appreciate the gesture and say thank you, but she should have known better. "I'm going to forget this whole conversation ever happened, but mark my words. If you ever talk to me like this again, Elena, you'll regret it."


End file.
